Day: June 16, 2018

I’m Sam Steeves, and I Speak for the Bees

…except sweat bees. They are the douchebags of the bee community.

An entire bee community, plagued by little guy syndrome.

I’m trying to be productive on my Mostly Day Off. I finally finished mowing my lawn, since my previous attempt was rained out, and prior to that, it had been…ok, so maybe some of it was knee high.

It happens.

In Kentucky.

Where it rained for a week straight. And I work too much. And my whole Coming Off Antidepressants has lead to a lot of couch slothing.

But yeah, it happens.

Besides, Justin isn’t here to judge me, so I can do what I want!

I mean…until housing leaves a note on my door that my back yard is not zoned as a Natural Zone, and I need to get my crappy together and mow that jungle.

I should get a job with the housing office–I could really bring a new voice to their “friendly reminders.”

Ok, so I googled it. And they don’t mean to be assholes.

Sorry sweat bee. I didn’t mean to scare you into stinging me when I squatted down and accidentally trapped you between my thigh and calf. It was an honest mistake.

In their defense, I’m a very sweaty girl. I’d probably hang out on me too, if I was attracted to sweat.

I’m irresistible.

To bees.

I’m irresistible to sweat bees. Get back to pollinating. I won’t squish any of your friends.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

2004 was a year. I finally permanently walked away from my unhealthy on again/off again relationship. Back then, Justin was just my best friend, who I loved with all my heart. 2004 was the year I told myself I’d be single, promising Justin that at the end of that year, I would be willing to explore the possibility of dating him (even though I already knew I would one day marry him).

2004 wasn’t my healthiest year.

I made a lot of bad decisions. Or at least, decisions that make me look back and think, what was I thinking!?

But you can’t regret those things. Every decision you make helps lead you where you need to be.

I got my first tattoo in 2004: magenta stars on my foot. A few months later I got more stars (because, who doesn’t love stars), this time on my pelvis. They were fun and cute. I was going to add to them. Because, why not!?

I waited. In fact, I believe I waited a whole year. In that time, I also married Justin (because, when he said, “you’re never going to come visit me,” I had to prove him wrong. And 6 months later, I married my best friend).

Initially I was…not entirely impressed with my additional stars. The shop’s apprentice did them, and while I am all for giving people a chance, this girl didn’t have it. Part of the way through she said, “let’s do some stars with thick outlines, and some with thin.” Let’s just say we don’t know what we’re doing.

You know what makes a not-so-great pelvic tattoo even better? Stretching it out. Two times.

I told myself that someday, I would do something about those damn stars.

Fast forward to December, 2011. My sisters and I got matching DeBie tattoos. And the tattoo artist said, “I can fix those stars for you.” Could it be?! Is there really hope for them?!”

Sadly, before I was able to get back to New York and get back in with him, he passed away. I gave up the idea of ever getting those dang stars taken care of.

This past year, working a full time job and playing single mom (even if it is just a temporary gig), I decided to take Justin’s advice, and start treating myself. Not necessarily the way most people would choose to. My gifts to me have come in the form of needles being jammed into my skin. And then I decided it was time.

So long, farewell. After 13 years, I was ready to say goodbye to the permanent reminder of the crazy year I spent finding myself.

You won’t be missed.

And Justin? Yeah, I’ll keep him. 💖